


Dreams in Reality

by Fallen_Seraphim



Category: Heneral Luna (2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-25 17:36:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6204511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fallen_Seraphim/pseuds/Fallen_Seraphim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all started with dreams, dreams that slowly invaded their life. But is their fate same as the ones in their dreams?</p><p>Hades/Persephone AU of some sort</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DurchVerse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DurchVerse/gifts).



~o~

*Pole*

_Once the world knew not of Spring_

_Nor Winter winds, Summer rains_

_The leaves never fell with the Autumn breeze_

_All because he is here._

 

                It’s him. It’s always him. Him from a different time and memory, as if  he’s witnessing a distant memory that was shunned in the inner recesses of his brain. Nevertheless, it’s him. Or rather, a version of him not bound by disability. He sees himself walk, run even across green fields and thickets, through woodlands and rivers, stopping only for a drink before setting off again. Sometimes he is in the company of strange creatures, the likes of which he has never seen nor heard and yet he doesn’t feel afraid of their presence around him.  In this dream world he lives in pure bliss, untainted by war and poverty. Ah, sometimes he wishes to be left alone in that world, to savor life and limb, but wishes, most of the time remain unanswered.

                And maybe that’s why the dream always returns? Or is he the one returning to the dream?

                But even so, he dreams of the same wonderful things.

                And he is happy.

                That is, until his dream started bleeding into reality.

                Ad it scares him.

~o~

*Miong*

_Down where the light is scarce,_

_Lives a King who yearns for light_

_He has a throne but he’s all alone_

_Waiting for something to get him out of the cold._

 

                                “It must be the revolution”

                That is the only explanation he can offer himself for his recurring dreams. Yes, it must be the stress of the ongoing war for, how else can he explain finding himself sailing through a sea of souls? And he knows he should be terrified but instead he sits above them, reigning as their king.

                And the dead worship him.

                Yet in his borrowed self he feels his kingdom incomplete, thus he yearns for something more…

                Something with life.

 

                He believes in superstition, that’s why he believes that his recurring dream is an omen. Though an omen of what, is not yet certain. That dream where he is darkness personifies.

                It frightens him.

~o~

*Pole*

_Under the sun he sings a song_

_Under the moon he dances alone_

_His charm has spread across land and sea_

_And even reaching the world beneath_

 

                He writes. Even with his affliction, he struggles towards his goal to have his voice heard. He has the brain, all he needs is to be heard. It would seem that his dream gives him inspiration to go beyond his limits. And little by little he gains respect and acknowledgement for his wit.

                His star is shining.

                And yet, whatever inspiration his dream-self gives fades away whenever he sees his dream-self with his waking eyes. He sees his dream-self  every time he’s alone, see a ghost-like figure pass in front of him, sometimes he could even hear the sound of a laugh.

                But that’s not what frightens him.

                Awareness.

                That one time he caught sight of his dream self and the other stopped…

                Stopped and turned to him.

                And smiled.

~o~

*Miong*

_From the world above where there is light_

_A sliver of sunshine pierces the darkness_

_A voice so sweet traveled from the world of the living to that of the dead,_

_Ensnaring the heart of the king of the realm._

 

                At last, the country is starting to make her way out of the darkness of captivity to the light of independence. And as much as he wants to rejoice, he feels the weight of his new position as President of the Republic, press and suffocate him.

                It is also not helping that in his dream, he has started to see himself clearly: sees how darkness and death looms about him, cradles his being as a living shroud. He hopes this is not a vision of his future for it is too depressing, he could feel the emptiness well inside his breast even in his dream state.

                That is, until in his dreams, he heard the phantom voice, the disembodied laughter echoing softly in the vastness of his hall. And the scent of fresh pine and wild flowers will mysteriously engulf him, making his head swirl. His heart immediately stirs. Curious, he steps down from his throne, and up he goes to the world of the living. There, he tried running after the melodious sound. Often, he reaches a spot where the echoes of a recent festivity lingers and he smells the sweet scent of his prey, the warmth of the light feet that danced on the grass, but never hurting a single blade. But that’s all he gets, the fading memory of a being so brilliant it brings light even to his eyes.

                And he hungers.

                This hunger has awakened itself one day, upon getting his hands on a particular article. He read through the work and was immediately amazed at how well it was written, of how it speaks not only to enlighten, but to stir hearts. He asks for the writer, uses his newfound power to summon him, to bring him to his side.

                And thus he shares the burning hunger of his dream self.

~o~

*Pole*

_The red thread of destiny heaves and pulls_

_And yet, this innocent creature remains oblivious_

_Heeds not the call of Fate,_

_Notices not the dark being that lies in wait_

 

                He has received the summon from the President. At first he refused to go, seeing no logic in having a lame man and an ordinary lawyer be accorded an audience with the esteemed leader.  But then he yields, mostly because it is his chance to directly aid his beloved country back to her feet.

                And who can resist such an opportunity?

                Now, he’s on his way to Kawit, being brought by a hundred men from his humble abode to the seat of power. A hundred men… he remembers Helen of Troy and the thousand ships launched to bring her back to Sparta. He laughs.

                But his mirth is short-lived as his vision starts again. It has become clearer now, his dream self is no longer a wraith, he is as plain as anyone else. And now, he sees that dream-self being pursued by a dark form while his dream-self remains oblivious to the danger. He watches, helpless as his dream-self continue to dance, weaving his way around the men surrounding him, face reflecting pure bliss. And behind, always following, comes the shadowy figure, hand reaching out as if to clutch at his dream-self.

                He shivers. Is this a bad omen? Should he stop this mad journey?

                The vision stops. He breathes.

                And the journey continues.

~o~

*Miong*

_Enamored, darkness pursues light_

_Only to be left behind_

_He finds nothing but faint traces of a sweet dream_

_Yet his hunger grows greater still._

 

                His nights are filled with frustration as he fails to catch the phantom dancer. Over and over again, he tries to manipulate his dream, force it to bend to his will but to no avail, his prey evades capture.

                The sweet scent maddens him, frustrates him each time he comes upon it. Hunger turns to lust, and he wakes up, drenched in sweat, breathing heavy, his heart thumping like war drums. To calm himself, he would think of other pressing matters, but his mind will always go back to wondering about what the creature in his dream looks like? His blood stirs as he tries to remember the scent, tries to form a picture in his mind but fails. He sighs. Then he remembers about the man he has called. How long before he reaches him?

                He can’t wait to finally see him.

                And without realizing it, he’s shared the same hunger with his dream self.

                Somehow the dream is starting to mingle with reality.

~o~

*Pole*

_There is always the calm before the storm_

_The deep breath before plunging into chaos unknown_

_But for he who knew not of the danger trailing behind_

_Sees to late the net closing around._

                At last he arrives. The vision has left him during the last leg of his journey and it made him feels good. At last he can focus on the real world and his new calling.

                He is now being brought to the President, and as much as he wants to focus on the important matters he’d decided to talk about, he feels a strange blanket of anxiousness slowly wrap around him. He turned his head sideways, as if he can actually see, or feel the cause of his uneasiness.

                Then all of a sudden, he sees something flit past his peripheral vision… then he hears laughter…  Later, he sees his dream self, on top of the staircase, smiling at him, waving. He feels a ball of ice fall in his stomach. His dream self turns back after one last wave and suddenly disappears. He should have been relieved, but then, a swooping shadow descended in front of him and he has to bite his tongue to stop himself from uttering a cry.

                The dark form. It’s here.

                His heartbeat quickens and he glances around, trying to catch a glimpse of the dark figure. He doesn’t know why it bothers him, but he saw the look in the phantom’s eyes before it rushed off to follow his dream self. He saw the inhuman flicker in those cold eyes, an almost animalistic hunger that made him shiver. Now, more than ever he is convinced that he must never be captured by..

                Wait… _He?_

                Shouldn’t it be his dream self?

                Confused, he failed to realize that he is being brought inside a room, and that in front of him stands the newly appointed President of the Republic.

~o~

*Miong*

_At last, the wait is up_

_His prize is now within his grasp_

_He stops and thinks of what do say_

_But decides that it’s better to take him away_

 

                He was sitting behind his desk and penning a letter when a soldier informs him that the lawyer will be arriving shortly. He kept his cool as the soldier made a salute and headed back to his position, but as soon as the door was closed and the footsteps of the soldier died down, he immediately jumped out of his chair.

                Yes, he is eager to meet the lawyer as he is much intrigued by the wits the paralytic possesses but this is different. The anticipation running in his veins is different from usual, he feels fire in his bllod as it courses through his body.

                Then it hits him…

                The scent.

                It’s as if he’s living his dream. He can smell the sweet aroma filling up the room, he looked around, trying to make sense of the sudden fragrance. But there is no logical source around him.

                Then his eyes fall to the mirror.

                                “Dear God” he mutters

                For a moment, he saw the reflection of the wraith in the mirror. It was him, he has turned to the creature of darkness from his dreams.

                Panic rose in him, and thankfully, it abated by the sudden announcemen:

                Apolinario Mabini has come.

~o~

*Pole*

_Caught in a trap with no way out_

_Plunges to the deep, dark ground_

_All cries are swallowed by the earth_

_He feels himself being pulled to the depths of Hell_

                Pole looks at the imposing figure in front of him. There are no words being said, it’s as if they are sizing up each other and waiting for whoever makes the first move. He sighs inwardly, not wanting to play this type of game this early. He yields and greets the president who smiles at him and offers his hand.

                Then, the vision hits him.

                For the man in front of him suddenly turns into the shadowy figure, giving off an aura of great and terrible darkness, of coldness…

                Of… loneliness?

                His hand freezes involuntarily by his sudden recurrence of his vision, but the president takes the initiative to reach out to him, to hold his hand.

                And then he sees it. Sees the dark figure slide and separate from that of the president, but together with him, being clutched by that long, pale hand is the hand of his dream self.

                He had been captured.

                That’s when he feels the firm tug as the president shakes his hand.

~o~

*Miong*

_By force he takes, he dominates_

_Grabbing his prize from the bosom of the earth_

_Down they fly to his kingdom of darkness_

_He returns victorious, and his heart rejoices_

 

                The scent heightens as the hammock was brought in and Miong finds it hard to concentrate even on the simplest task. He sees the man in the hammock, watches as the soldiers carry him to a chair, his eyes drilling holes into the man’s body. They stare at each other, he tries to learn what he can from this man’s appearance but all he can gather is the apparent weakness of the paralytic.

                But then the man speaks… it’s the voice! The one from his dreams! How?

                In his eagerness, he reaches out to shake Mabini’s hand, he even fails to notice how the other man’s hand had frozen in mid-air, the lawyer’s expression being a mixture of shock and fright.

                All Miong cares about is that the one he had searched for is now here. He reaches out to close his hand around the other’s and he feels the surge of electricity travel under his skin. The scent strengthens, his hunger surfaces.

                For now, at last, he had captured his prey.

 


	2. Abduction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied. Things get a bit dirty somewhere in the middle-ish of this thing. Run away.

~Pole~

                In the days that followed their first meeting, the lawyer tries to adjust to his new life. Now in the heart of the newly formed government, he is being bombarded with decisions, oppositions, and a never ending list of what needs to be done. He takes to heart this new role and performs it with gusto: his heart throbbing madly in his chest whenever he engages n a debate, the gears in his mind rattling, churning fast as he pens decrees he knows will be followed by the nation. Yes, this is the life he longs for, to be of service despite his ailment, to be used for the betterment of his country and he could never ask for more.

                Maybe that’s why he’s always so tired these days. He’s spent nights staying up until dawn just to read through recommendations, and news, to write letters or to respond to them. He feels the hours to be inadequate for his needs thus he dispenses with sleep. Besides…

                The dreams, his vision, his dream self…

                He feels a shiver run down his spine whenever he remembers it: of how he saw his dream self being carried away by that phantom, the feeling of being pulled away into the unknown… Thankfully, his visions had stopped after that moment inside the President’s office.  And so far his dreams remain free from the shadow or his dream self.

                But maybe that’s the reason why he doesn’t sleep? He’s afraid to know what has happened to his dream self, and afraid to see the dark figure that had captured him.

                                “Are you feeling well? You look paler than usual.” The President blurts out, breaking his train of thought.

                                “I am fine, Mr. President. Shall we take a look at what the Congress wants?”

 

                He watches as the President frown but he ignores it. He has come here to be of service to the government and he is doing just that. There’s no need for any more concern outside of work. He turns his attention to the papers in front of him, reads a passage and starts asking questions to the President who answers them promptly. The exchange of ideas continue until lunch time when an attendant interrupts them to announce that food is ready to be served.

 

                                “Very well. Can I trouble the cook to have mine and the Minister’s food be brought here?”  he turns to the President upon hearing this.

                                “I’ve heard that you barely eat and sleep. It’s bad for your health. This way, you’ll be forced to eat.” Was the nonchalant reply of the younger man.

                He let the president have his way.  They put aside the materials on the desk to make way for the food and Pole experiences the most awkward lunch in his life.

 

                                “You’re not going to finish your food?” the President asked after he pushed away his plate.

                                “No. I’m afraid I’m already full.” Aguinaldo nods

                                “In that case, I’m done eating as well.” He gapes as the younger man puts down his utensils.

                                “But Mr. President, your food!” he protests.

                                “I’m not going to stuff myself with food while my Prime Minister goes through the day with only half a plate of gruel.” He tries to find words to counter this but the president is not yet done talking.

                                “Please, if only to indulge in my whim for today.” Aguinaldo smiles at him, he quickly bows his head and pretends to examine his plate as he feels heat rise up to his cheeks. A few moments later, he picks up his utensils, pull the plate towards him and starts to eat again.

                                “Thank you.” The president murmurs happily. He nods, not lifting his head nor his gaze, afraid to feel that rushing heat again.

               After the plates have been taken away, they resume their work. He feels the afternoon heat slowly lull him to sleep. He struggles to keep his eyes open and his mind alert, but even the documents he’s reading seem to add weight to his lids. His head slowly drooping down, only to jerk back up and then he hears small choking noises from the president who promptly hides his face behind a bunch of papers. Is the president laughing? He frowns and tries harder to concentrate… and fails.

 

                                “Sir, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be out for a while.”

 

               He looks up as the president stands up and gives him a curt bow before walking off.  Now left on his own, he feels the pull of sleep even more. He tries to fight it off and succeeds, but soon, even his will bends to the siren song and he feels his eyelids lower on their own. As darkness wraps around him, he feels his body plunge down.

 

~Miong~

 

                He watches as the soldiers carry the paralytic into his room. Once seated, the lawyer gives him a nod and immediately opens the discussion. Poring over papers he still manages to glance at the lawyer’s direction every now and then, noting the other’s features. He had asked Mabinis’ secretary about the former’s health and how he’s coping with the change of environment. That’s how he found out about the sleepless nights, and the missed meals, and by the life of him, he wouldn’t want to lose such a precious…

                Precious what?

                He tries to divert his thoughts but ends up staring at Mabini, and he notices how the other man’s countenance to be paler, the cheekbones made more prominent by the thinning face. Not able to contain his concern, he blurts out:

                                “Are you feeling well? You look paler than usual.”

                The lawyer answers him dismissively and he frowns. He wishes Mabini to pay more attention to his health more than anything. He thinks about what he can do in this situation but the continuous questions from his Minister prevents him. When an attendant arrives and informs them about lunch, an idea suddenly comes to his mind.

                                “Can I trouble the cook to have mine and the Minister’s food be brought here?”

                Well, if he will be able to see and supervise the lawyer during lunch, maybe he can coax him to eat. His opportunity came when the lawyer quits halfway. He looks at the plate of half-eaten food and decided to take matters into his own hands. And when Mabini caved in to his wish? Oh, how happy he felt then, and he spends a few moments watching the man eat, his eyes slowly focusing on the older man’s lips, watching as they open to receive the spoonful of food, thinking if they are as soft as the thinks them to be. He feels something stir in him, and once again he smells the faint trace of the maddening scent. He shakes his head, ridding him of otherworldly thoughts and instead focuses on his food.

 

                They immediately go back to their discussion after their meal. Running a country is a tough thing, building a government to run the country is tougher. He is about to ask for  a break when he notices the lawyer dozing off. He smiles as he watches Mabini’s head falling slowly only to shoot back up when the lawyer wakes. He lets out a snort of laughter and promptly hides his face behind a handful of papers. Letting a few minutes pass, he slowly peeks from said papers to look at Mabini. Once again, his Minister is slowly succumbing to sleep. He watches in amusement and is now fast to react and hide when the lawyer jerks awake. He keeps at this for two more times before he decides to give his Minister a break.

 

 

                                “Sir, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be out for a while.”

                He does not let Mabini speak, he rises, gives a short bow and leaves. He walks out of the house, but not after instructing the guards to let no one disturb the Minister. He makes his way out of the residence, but remembers that it’s almost time for afternoon snacks so he goes to inform the kitchen ladies to not go up and serve the snacks.

 

                                “I’ll be out for a little walk. I will bring it up on my way back.” He explained.

 

                There, he’s made sure that no one will disturb Mabini, giving the lawyer the chance to have a good sleep (whether he likes it or not). He takes a leisurely walk outside, pleased at his day’s accomplishment.  He happens to pass underneath the window of his study and he looks, up wondering if the lawyer has already fallen asleep. He wants to go back to the room and check, he restrains himself and instead decides to just ride to town to pass the time.

 

~Pole~

 

                As he falls into deep sleep, his soul returns to the dream world once again. But now, he descends into the darkness of the underworld. He thinks this must be the home of the creature who had captured his dream self and he can’t help but dread the fate of his dream self. Like a spirit, he floats around the gloomy darkness, trying to find his way around. He wanders aimlessly, until he finds an unusually well-lit area. He glides towards the source of the light and finds it to be a room, a room of carven rocks and a canopy filled with dangling crystals reflecting the light from a skylight which serves as the single opening to the outside world. He marvels at how the lights seem to dance as they bounce from the crystals, illuminating and giving life to the room. He dares to go in, and notices that the hewn rocks are actually made of precious gems which also glisten as light touches them, giving off different hues that dance around. In one corner he sees a flowing stream of water that pools into a marble basin. And in the center of the room is a bed of white marble with furs that serves as cushion and pillows. And that is where he sees his dream self, kneeling on the furs with an arm outstretched to the sky, as if trying to catch the dancing lights.

 

                He feels a pang of sadness at seeing this youth who looks so helpless. That youth is the only thing he has that doesn’t bind him to his worldly sickness, this dream world is supposed to be his sanctuary from his immobile world and yet, even here, even for his dream self, hope has been taken away. He feels hot anger rise in him, and yet, he goes to his dream self to try and comfort him, gliding towards the bed, inching closer until he could almost touch that pale face.

 

                That’s when his dream self looks at him, eyes round in surprise. He draws his hand back, for the surprised look on his dream self immediately changed to loathing. That’s when he feels a wave of cold air envelope him, and a shadow pass through his ghostly self: the dark figure is here.

~Miong~

 

                                “I won’t take long…” he says to the leader of his brigade.

                                “Please make sure no one disturbs the Minister.” He reminds for the umpteenth time.

 

                The soldier salutes him as another offers the reins of his horse. Emilio climbs up and nudges his horse to a trot. He rides off, but not without a last look at the residence, and to one particular window, whispering a wish of a peaceful sleep to his Minister.

                Everyone gathers around as Emilio Aguinaldo rides to town. As usual, he smiles and greets everyone, occasionally politely refusing items offered to him as gift or item for sale. He maneuvers his horse through the crowd and makes his way back to the residence, but stops when a man raises his child up to him. The little boy is barely five years old and is grinning at him, while holding a necklace made of sampaguita. He smiles and bows his head, letting the child put it around his neck. He momentarily takes the child from his father and hoists him up, making the boy giggle. He smiles and ruffles his hair before giving him back to his father. And that’s when he sees the basket being carried by the man.

 

~Pole~

                He shudders at the thought of that dark figure passing through him. He watches as the figure approach his dream self, extends a hand and touches the youth’s cheek, a thumb running over his dream self’s lips. He would have stopped this if he’s a corporeal being in this world, but no, he’s as powerless as his dream self and this frustrates him even more. His dream self shudders at the touch, but seems to be incapable of movement just as the dark figure slowly inch closer, a hand snaking around the youth’s waist. His blood pumped faster as he understands what’s about to happen, he tries to intervene by rushing to the dark figure but he just goes through him like water through a strainer. To his relief, his dream self fights back, delivering a vicious kick to his captor’s abdomen. The youth scrambles off the bed and runs away, the dark figure stays for a while before running after the boy. He tries to catch up but fails, ending up wandering the realm again. It took him some time before he found his dream self, slumped over a rock in front of a vast river, longingly eyeing the other side and freedom. He stands there, feeling his dream self’s pain and at the same time curses his own inability to help.

                He feels something, or rather he feels an eye on him, he turns around and sees the dark figure hidden behind a column of rocks, and he once again feels the surge of hatred in him.

                But…

                Are his eyes deceiving him?

                For he sees the dark figure to be looking at his dream self with sad eyes, almost wet with tears.

                Why?

                But the figure soon disappeared from view, he flies to where he saw the figure but there was nobody there. Going back, he sits beside his dream self, his hand hovering that of his dream self, the only way he could think of to comfort the crying youth. He feels heaviness in his lids, and as much as he wanted to stay awake, just like his dream self, they fall into sweet sleep.

 

                He wakes up once again as that cold wave pass over him. True to his suspicion, the dark figure is back, and is now floating across the river. He follows, curious as to what this fiend has in mind. He finds himself going back to the mortal world, the brightness of the sun nearly blinding him. He looks for the dark figure and finds him in the middle of a meadow…

                Picking flowers…?

                He watches in amusement and puzzlement at the sight. Soon enough he finds himself going back to the underworld, still in pursuit of the figure who picks up the sleeping form of his dream self and takes it back to the room.

 

~Miong~

 

                The soldiers greet him as he returns. He immediately calls for the guard he assigned to watch near the door of his study to ask if anything was amiss.

 

                                “No Sir. Everything’s very quiet. I would like to apologize because I opened the door to check on the Minister to ensure his safety sir. He’s fast asleep. I think he’s still sleeping.” Emilio nods with a  smile, so far his plan had worked.

 

                He walks to the kitchen to fetch their snacks, and smiles as the kitchen ladies compliment the sampaguita garland around his neck. He smiles and makes his way back to the room, taking great pains to be quiet. He cautiously peeks into the room and smiles triumphantly as he sees the Minister still asleep. The sun is already starting its descent so it must have been hours since he left the room. He walks in, places the plates of food and his souvenir from town on top of the messy table and afterwards starts clearing up the papers. Once done, he shifts his attention back to the lawyer, taking in the sight of the sleeping form and wonders at how the lawyer can keep his grace even at such a defenseless time.

                Once again he feels that hunger eat him away from the inside, he feels the urge to touch the Minister’s skin, see how it feels under his fingers, he swallows as an internal deliberation takes place. Eventually reason loses to feelings and with shaking hands he cups the lawyer’s cheek, his thumb running over the lawyer’s lips, before slowly pressing down the lower lip, inching into the lawyer’s mouth. He leans forward, closing in the space between them…

 

~Pole~

                The dark figure has laid his dream self on the bed of fur again, covering the youth with a blanket. The figure stays by the youth’s side, a look of longing on his face. He sees the figure touch the face of his dream self once again.

 

                                “I’m sorry I frightened you.” He hears the figure say for the first time and somehow he finds the voice familiar, but he just can’t tell where he heard that voice.

                                “I…”

                                “I only want to be near you.”

 

                With this, the dark figure presses a kiss on his forehead, a kiss that somehow he himself feels, and he feels himself flush. He also smells the aroma of flowers as the dark figure places the blossoms he picked from the Earth beside his dream self. Even before he could question this sudden development, he feels himself waking up.

                                “Good evening, Mr. Mabini.”

                He blinks himself to wakefulness as he hears the President’s voice and almost jumps in surprise as he notices that the sun is almost down. The president laughs.

 

                                “What time is it?” He means to greet the President but he blurts this out instead.

                                “Half past six in the evening. I’m so sorry, I went to town and forgot the time.” Aguinaldo says with a sheepish grin.

                                “I also brought with me our supposed snacks. The kind ladies heated it for us. Do you care to join me for a late merienda?” Mabini was too dumbfounded to speak, he just nods.

                                “Oh I also have a souvenir.” He offers a small packet of banana leaves which Mabini takes, but not without giving the president a look.

                                “I got that from a family of flower peddlers in town. They gave me one and I noticed that they have a basketful. I decided to buy it all and give it to the church, but I thought I’d save one for you, Minister.”

 Mabini swears the president looks almost boyish with that wide grin spread on his face. He shifts his gaze to the said present and finds an identical garland of sampaguita. He looks at the President. Does he think…?

                                “Come on, wear it” Aguinaldo’s smile widens even more.

                He stops to contemplate, but the President grabs the garland and unceremoniously places it around his neck. He blinks, trying to make sense of everything, but the President just gives him the same boyish smile that he gives up.

                They proceeded to eating the snacks, even though dinner is already prepared. Emilio asked the kitchen staff to just set aside their portion and he will send for it when they are hungry. This time, their meal is not as awkward as Emilio relates to him what happened in town and he finds himself responding. The talk goes beyond the afternoon’s activities and stretches back even to their childhood memories. And even when they have already started going back to official business, these off topic discussions still find their way into the conversation.

 

                                “Also, Mr, President…” Mabini starts,

                                “Miong.” He stops.

                                “Please call me Miong. That’s what my friends call me.” He feels that heat rush to his cheeks once again and he quickly pretends to be engrossed in a document.

                                “Miong.” He says finally, slowly, as if testing how the name feels like as he speaks it.

                                “Do you have a nickname which I can use to call you, Mr. Mabini?”

                                “N-no, it’s fine.” He stammers and he internally berates himself for it.

                                “Oh, okay.” He could feel the disappointment emanating from the President’s voice., and he mentally kicks himself.

 

~Miong~

 

                Even though he’s saddened when Mabini refused to give his nickname, he feels thankful that the Prime Minister had started calling him Miong, even when discussing matters of State. For so long he had wished to be closer to the Minister, the mysterious and cols aura of the other entrancing him. And now, he’s a step closer to his goal.

                Wait…

                What goal?

                He shakes his head, no, there’s no hidden agenda here. He just wants to be closer to the Minister…

 

                                “Miong?”

                                ‘Oh God, the way he calls my name.’

                                “Miong.” Mabini’s voice became more persistent and he had to pull away from his stupor.

                                “I’m sorry.” He coughs.

 

                He manages to keep his mind away from his Prime Minister until it’s about time to retire. Mabini is about to call some soldiers when he stopped him.

 

                                “They must be asleep now. Here, just let me…” he says, going to the Minister’s side and lifts him up. He feels Mabini’s body stiffen and hears him complain.

                                “Just this once.” He says before making his way out.

 

                Once inside the Minister’s room, he walks towards the bed and gently lays his Minister down. He takes off the garland and places it on the bedside table.

                                “Thank you, Mr. President.” He frowns at this.

 

 

~Pole~

                                “I thought I already what to call me?” he almost laughs as the President pouts.

                                “M-miong.” He says, the name still feels foreign on his tongue and he can’t help but feel uneasy when he says it, but it’s a good name.

                                “Thank you. Good night Mr. Mabini.”

 

                Emilio stands up and walks towards the door and he watches him, and just as the President opens the door…

 

~Miong               

                                “Pole. That’s what they call me. Pole.”

 

                He couldn’t believe his ears. He made a sharp turn to face the lawyer who has an arm laid over his eyes. He would have ran to him had his dignity not stop him. But he feels overjoyed at this.

                                “Yes, thank you, Pole, and good night.” He says, trying to keep his voice even.

                                “Good night, Miong.” Pole replies and Miong could have flown to the moon if possible.

 

~Pole~

                After that night, he finds himself feeling more comfortable around the President.  Of course he still talks to him formally whilst on duty, but once the official business is done, they both slip into informal talk, even during their close door meetings.

 

                                “Miong?” he begins. By now, he’s gotten used to saying the other man’s name, but still, there’s this lingering feeling under his skin as he says it.

                                “Yes?” the other turns to him, smiling. It doesn’t help that Miong always has this stupid, silly grin on his face everytime he calls him by name.

                                “Have you read the letter I sent you?” the other nods.

                                “We need to have a decision by the end of the month. I’m just reminding you.”

                                “Thank you, Pole.” His heart skips a beat, his pulse quickens. It’s been like this everytime Miong says his name and he feels himself blush.

                                “Pole, are you okay?” he replies with a soft “yes” and abruptly opens a new discussion.

 

~Miong~

                He bids Pole good night as soldiers carry the man out of the room. He follows suit, stopping as he watch the group disappear into the Minister’s room. He’s been stopping himself from accompanying the group to Pole’s room to personally oversee everything, even stay there until he’s sure that Pole’s asleep. But he knows Pole wouldn’t allow that, and that the soldiers will have so much to talk about. He sighs and walks off towards his own room.

 He treasures the Prime Minister more than anyone in his cabinet. More than an adviser, he proves to be a true friend and ally, and he could not ask for more than that.

                Or so he thought.

                For there are nights when his dream will revisit him: a dream where he has taken on the figure of darkness and ravishes the ethereal being he has captured. During these dreams he sees himself make passionate love with the being who had taken on Mabini’s form.

                Wait…

                When did his captive change form?

                He tries to recall the original form of his prisoner, but fails as he loses himself in the pleasure of sinking his teeth into soft skin, biting down until he hears a soft yelp before he soothes the area with his tongue, licking the spot before gently kissing it again. Then off he goes to find another place to target.

                And yet he still tries to retain what little control is left in him, try to make his body bend to his will, to not cross the boundary of propriety even in his dreams. But it all dissolves when he watch himself enter his beautiful victim. He could almost feel every thrust that brings him deeper into his captive, feel the warmth that spreads from his member to his entire body and ends up as a groan in his mouth. All reason fly out the window as he hears the wet sound of flesh hitting flesh, his orgasm building up to end in glorious release all taken in by his lover.

                He will soften and lay beside his captured gem, stroking hair and skin, sharing the warmth of tangled limbs while he whispers words of love in his lover’s ear.

                And he wakes up, member stiff and wanting, embarrassment coloring his cheeks at the thought of such sinful dreams. But he will give in to his lust as he satisfies himself with his hand, his mind going back to the dream, and even daring to imagine his own version, his lover being his beloved prime minister.

                There are no questions now, the figure he has been chasing can only be _that person_.

                Yes, it had been Mabini all along.

                He reaches his climax, and immediately regrets his actions as he sees his seed spurt from his member.

 

~Pole~

                He can’t sleep.  He’s been in bed for roughly an hour and yet he’s wide awake. He’d have thought about work, but there’s a forming headache under his skull whenever he tries.

 

                                “The President’s been watching again.” He remembers one of the soldiers whisper to his comrade.

                                “Do you think he’s worried we can’t do something as simple as this.” The other hissed.

 

`               At that time, he tried to see for himself what the soldiers were talking about. But given his state, he barely saw anything. He just makes a mental note to discuss it with the President. But now, he has to focus on sleeping. But why can’t he sleep?

                And he remembers, the dream…

                The dreams are back, and are even worse now… For many days he sees himself fused with his dream self. And the shadowy figure? It had taken on the image of the President.

                But worst of all are the things they do in his dream, things he could never confess to anyone.

 

                He sees himself, being carried by the shadowy figure, feels the softness of his fur bed as his captor gently lowers him, his upper body still being cradled in his captor’s arms. Their eyes meet, and he feels his chest tighten, feels his skin burn in want as the shadow caresses him, his face, his hair, his neck, he lets out a soft mewling sound. He feels the lips that seals his own, feels his hand being held, guided towards his captor’s face, and he gives in, his fingers pressing into skin, and he feels hands that intrude the privacy of his body.

                His will surfaces, and he resists.

                But then, he’s not the strongest.

                And he subjects himself to the pleasures of the flesh.

 

                He feels his legs open and welcome the stiff member of the president… no, of the shadowy figure. He feels each thrust as the thick flesh drive its point deeper into him, making him moan and clutch at his lover. His legs wrapping around the hips of his partner, his lips taking on the other’s lips, tongue lashing out to battle for dominance. His voice rings out as he feels the hot spurt of seed inside him, screams again at his own climax before softly falling back to the peace of his lover’s arms.

 

~o~

 

~Miong~

 

                He listens as Pole complains about him watching the soldiers carry him to his room. He frowns at being discovered and at Pole’s firm request for him to stop.  Defeated, he agrees, but not without his own condition:

 

                                “I’m just worried about you. If you’ll let me carry you to your room from time to time, then I will let the matter go.”

 

~Pole~

 

                He almost broke the tip of his pen when he heard Miong’s request. He looks at the president to make sure that he heard it right, or if the other man was joking, but the straight face Miong’s wearing tells him otherwise.

 

                                “M-miong? Are you serious?”

                                “Yes. Do you agree?”

                                “I doubt  disagreeing will stop you.”

                                “I will stop if you tell me to.”

 

                He tensed after hearing that. Somehow, the statement feels a bit… odd. He lets it slip though, doesn’t give an answer. He let’s the whole issue hang in the hope of resolving itself. After all, there are more pressing matters at hand.

 

~Miong~

 

                As President of the Republic, he’s grown accustomed to having people obey his orders. So it irks him that a certain someone keeps on defying his express wish. That’s why he’s storming to a particular room that night, to demand an answer for the blatant disobedience of none other than his own Prime Minister.

 

                The cabinet spent the day in their usual fashion: a free-for-all verbal wrestling, clearly showcasing politics at its finest. Pole had it rough that day, parrying the assaults thrown by the elite whilst sending off his own tirade of well thought, actually sensible arguments. Miong had been on the verge of stopping the meeting but as if reading his mind, Pole will send him a look: ‘don’t you dare stop me while I’m in the middle of making this idiot see my point.’ Or that’s how he imagines it anyway. And so he let the circus run its merry way until they adjourned. And that’s the only time he noticed how Pole’s face seemed to be extremely pale. He tried asking Pole about it but was waved off. Not to be deterred easily, he went to Cayo who had told him about the Minister’s fever just the other day, and it’s not helping that the Minister’s been losing sleep the past few days.

 

                That’s the reason why he had the kitchen ladies cook some hot soup, and he himself got some medicines from his own supply to give to Pole. But when he arrived at his Minister’s room, he found it empty.

 

                                “He’s in his study Mr. President, said he has to draft some-“ Cayo was not able to finish for he had already stormed out of the room.

 

                And now, a few steps away from the study, he tries to calm himself, but he can’t stop the rising mixture of concern and anger in him. He doesn’t even know what he’ll be telling Pole but he gathers he’ll just cross that bridge when he gets there. The most important thing is to make sure Pole keeps away from work, and he’ll see to it even if he has to order another hundred men to watch outside Pole’s room. He’s almost at the door now, and without ever meaning to, he throws it violently open that it closed behind him with a loud bang.

 

~Pole~

 

                He feels the fever still lingering in his system. He attended the cabinet meeting earlier as he feels the sickness somewhat leave him but all the stress of that meeting just made it resurface again.  He knows he should rest but there are so many things to do, and the President relies on every information he can give. There’s no way he can burden Miong with being inefficient...

                Besides, he’s afraid he night see those dreams again, and he shudders at the thought. That’s why he’s here, fighting both fever and headache so he can simply pass out and have a dreamless sleep. But the documents, the data are making his head spin, the humidity is making his fever worse, his vision starts to blur. He decides to take a break, maybe a little nap will not hurt. And so he lays back, closes his eyes and prays that the dream will keep at bay.

                That’s when he heard it. The hinges of his study door screeching as the wood almost tears from it, hears the same loud bang as the doors shut. Any normal person would have been startled, yes, he was taken in surprise, but not much, for he feels the aura of the person barging into his room, it could only be Miong. That violent burst of anger can only come from someone who has seen violence. He sighs inwardly, pretending to be asleep. He has no time to deal with Miong’s anger right now for he knows that he’s the reason for it. But weird, just as fast as Miong’s anger filled up the room, he feels it quickly disappear.

 

                What’s happening?

 

~Miong~

 

                Oh, he’s so ready to give Pole a piece of his mind, no matter what, he’s going to-

                He stops, his anger flies out of the window as he sees Pole sleeping in his rattan chair, looking every bit as peaceful as a child in sleep. His temper evens out, he approaches and practically kneels in front of the chair where he notices a few scattered papers. Apparently, Pole fell asleep while reading and he laughs, so typical of his Minister. He picks up the papers, even taking the ones still in Pole’s hands and dumps them unceremoniously on the table.

                                “What am I going to do with you?” he chuckles.

 

                He gathers up the sleeping man in his arms and frowned at how light Pole has become. Outside, he meets Cayo who gives him a terrified look, the young man’s probably worried for his master given the outburst he saw from the President. He gives Cayo a reassuring smile and the young man’s face lightens up and proceeds to walk behind him.

 

                                “Cayo, go to the doctor and tell him to come here right away. Then fetch a basin of cold water and a clean cloth for the Prime Minister.” They arrive at Pole’s room and for a moment, considers what to do.

                                “And Cayo…”

 

~Pole~

                                “Close the door when you leave.”

 

                He hears those words perfectly and yet he still can’t bring himself to believe it, nor the panic rapidly consuming his mind. Why is he panicking? Surely there’s nothing irregular with that request?

                But it wasn’t a request and the most logical part of his brain knew that. It was an order. Scenes from his dreams play under his closed lids, vivid depictions of the shadowy figured-turned president making love to him. No, he shouldn’t be thinking about it.

                The cloud of haziness prevented him from feeling Miong’s movements, his distress did not register the hot breath against his skin.

                That’s why his eyes almost shot open when he feels the pressure against his lips.

 

~Miong~

 

                He feels like his mind is not his own. He remembers giving an order to Cayo but scarcely anything after that. His mind snaps back on track when he’s halfway to laying Pole on his bed. He sees himself still cradling the sleeping man in his arms, does he really need to let go of this person? He feels like he can just stay there, with Pole in his arms until morning comes. He looks at Pole once again, his eyes falling on the thin lips that have gone pale. He wonders if he can make it alive again, bring the color back.

                And before he could think of the repercussions, he bends his head closer to take them into his mouth.

 

~Pole~

                His heartbeat quickens as he feels Miong’s lips against his own. He knows it’s wrong, he knows he should stop this, but…

                But what? What is making him hesitate to do right course of action? Is it the fever? Has his mind become too clouded to impede judgment? But he’s still thinking right. What is stopping him?

                In the meantime, he feels the continuous pressure, feels the heat of Miong’s lips being transferred to his own skin. As Mions kisses him his resolves dissolve little by little, until such time that he surprises himself when he moves his own lips to answer the incessant assault. It was just a little movement, he slowly opens his lips and gently presses back against Miong’s.

 

                Miong stops, pulls back. Confused, he finally opens his eyes

 

~Miong~

 

                The last thing he’d expect is to earn a reaction from the sleeping man. That’s why when he feels the slight movement, he immediately draws back. Sense starts to fill his mind once again. Here he is, taking advantage of his Minister. As dread washes over him like a shower of cold water, he watches as Pole opens his eyes, waiting for the scornful glare he’s expecting to receive.

                That’s why he’s surprised when he sees the clear steely gaze of his Minister look back at him. No reproach, no questions, it’s just Pole looking at him. There’s no exchange of words, none are necessary.

                What is he supposed to do? He remembers how Pole slowly, timidly returned his kisses. His skin had seared that feeling in his mind to keep. Could it be? No, he doesn’t want to hope. But what if?

                Leaving everything to chance he leans forward once again and resumes his interrupted activity. This time Pole does not response, he pulls back, but this time, he keeps his face inches from his Minister’s.

                                “I will stop if you tell me to.”

 

~Pole~

 

                He considers those words. Of course this thing has to stop, this thing… he looks at Miong’s eyes and all words get lost. He struggles to keep the words in his brain and push it down to his mouth but there’s something in Miong’s flushed cheeks and dark eyes that stubbornly yanks all sense from him.

                He opens his mouth but no words come out, instead, Miong swoops down to cover it once more, his kiss deeper this time, more insistent. He hears a groan, was it from him? It doesn’t matter, as his lips move in response, his hand reaching up to cup the side of Miong’s face as he feels Miong’s other arm wrap around his waist, hear the groan of the mattress as Miong climbs to the bed.

 

                Then he hears the knocks, recognizes Cayo’s voice outside. He firmly places a palm against Miong’s chest and gently pushes him away, gently breaking the kiss. Miong rebels, his face leaning closer, trying to capture his lips again.

 

                                “Miong stop.” He says, and true to his word, the president did cease his actions.

                                “Cayo’s here.” He says as another knock coupled by Cayo’s voice asking persmission for entry.

                                “Wait.” Miong calls back.

 

~Miong~

 

                It took every ounce of restraint for him to pull away when Pole bade him to stop. But he’s given his word and breaking that will be an additional transgression. He lays Pole gently on his back, his hand lingering on the other man’s face.

 

                                “I’ll leave you now.” He says. Pole nods weakly.

                                “I—“ he begins, what should he say. Should he apologize?

                                “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Pole says, his voice soft

               

                Unable to control himself he leans forward again, kissing his Minister for the last time . Pole returns it just like he did the others. He kisses Pole on the forehead after, wishing him good night before opening the door to Cayo and the doctor.

 

~Pole~

 

                He covers his forehead with his hand as soon as the doctor leaves. Cayo is still with him, soaking the cloth in the basin of water.

 

                                “Sir, maybe we should have had the doctor stay the night? You look really flushed. Maybe your fever has gone up and-“ he smiles at him, silencing the young man.

                                “I’m okay. This is nothing, thank you for your concern.”

 

                He lets his secretary tend to him, and after much haggling got the young man to leave him, convincing him that he will call if he needs anything. Once alone he raises a hand to cover his forehead, his mind thinking about what happened between him and Miong: there’s no denying it, his mind registers fully well their actions, his lips still feels heavy and hot, he slides his hand down to his eyes.

                Looks like his dreams are a vision after all, for tonight, he has been captured.

               

                               

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this ended up as #CrimesAgainstPole and I feel sorry for that. Also, I swear I tried my very best to write Miong as serious as possible, without him taking too much advantage on Pole but I failed.
> 
> That's it. Work is killing me now so I'm not going to ramble much hahahaha.

**Author's Note:**

> Forgive the rhymes. My poetry never really progressed since my high school days (my last serious poem was written a decade ago so all the poetry gears in my head are rusty at best). Gods, this is just so meh…
> 
>  
> 
> Don’t worry, those crappy lines will be gone for good. I just added them to have some variation with the one I initially posted on Tumblr. 
> 
> Explicit part is for Chapter 3 (if anyone's wondering about the rating thingy)


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